


Biotic Bondage

by keita52



Series: Story Limbo [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Biotics, Bondage, F/M, Femdom, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Misuse of Biotics, Starts off dubcon but flies right past it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/pseuds/keita52
Summary: A dispute between Garrus and Miranda, early in the days of the SR-2, takes an unexpected turn.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Mass Effect Kink Meme.
> 
> Tie for First Prize - 2015 People's Choice for Best Het Story (Non FemShep/Garrus)
> 
> Prompt: 
> 
> Garrus strikes me as the sort of guy who'd get off on being completely out of his depth in the bedroom. So let's see a biotic suspend him helplessly in midair and have their merry way with him until he's a shuddering, sticky mess. F! or M! Shepard both good options; rarer Garrus pairing would be lovely too. (Liara? Javik? Miranda? Kaidan? Hell, maybe even Aria or Saren?) Anything from dubcon to SSC negotiated safewords and fluffy aftercare, whatever prospective filler finds appropriate to the pairing and/or specific scenario.
> 
> There's an appalling dearth of biotic kink in this fandom, I mean come on, the sexual applications are explicitly called out in canon!

Garrus Vakarian is wondering how the situation got out of hand so quickly. And he knows that he only has a few more moments to ponder that question. The ball of biotic energy that she’s stuck in his mouth is keeping him quiet while she finishes her call, and it’s almost infuriating that she’s able to ignore him so easily. He tests the bonds around his arms and legs, but they are holding him snugly in mid-air. He’s equal parts indignant and humiliated, and he fully intends to give her a piece of his mind as soon as he’s free…

But that’s actually what got him into this situation in the first place. Giving Miss Perfect a piece of his mind. He doesn’t trust Cerberus, and he doesn’t like the way that Miranda is trying to dictate Shepard’s every move. The influence that she’s trying to exert over him. 

Garrus forces himself to focus as he sees Miranda tapping her omni-tool to end the call. In retrospect, he thinks, calling her a controlling cold-hearted bitch might have been an error. He tests the biotic energy again, in her view, as a show of defiance. He wants to show her that it will take more than this to beat him.

“So,” Miranda drawls, crossing her arms across her chest as she rises from her chair. “What am I going to do with you.”

Garrus schools his face into impassivity. She makes a slow circuit around him, seeming to examine every inch of him. It’s hard not to feel exposed under that intense scrutiny. 

“In case you’re wondering, it isn’t taking that much energy to hold you up,” Miranda comments. “So don’t get any thoughts about me getting tired and giving up on this.” She stops in front of him, meets his gaze, and because she’s trapped him he can’t look away. The word ‘bitch’ comes to mind again. 

“And if I did start to get tired…” Miranda walks over to her desk, pulls open one of the drawers, and lifts up an energy bar. Garrus wants to snarl at her, but Miranda hasn’t removed the biotic gag. She’s made her point. He’s at her mercy. It’s infuriating, and also somehow…

Exciting.

Garrus shoves that thought away, because it leads nowhere good.

“You’re undermining my authority with Shepard,” Miranda says. “Reminding him of your ‘good old days’ when Cerberus was the enemy. We’re all working together here, and you seem to be forgetting that.”

Funny how her definition of working together seems to feature her being in charge.

“That was Shepard, by the way. He’s run into some problems with recruiting Jack. He’ll be a bit longer than expected.” Miranda stands in front of him again. “He’s confident he can handle it, as am I. That gives us _plenty_ of time alone … time to get things straight between us.”

Miranda lifts her hand and makes a pinching gesture, and the gag on his mouth is gone. He fights back the urge to curse at her, though another turian would be able to hear the distaste in his subharmonics from a mile away. 

“I am Shepard’s second in command on this ship,” Miranda says. “As such, in Shepard’s absence, you will follow my orders.”

“There you go again,” Garrus replies. “We’re all equals, except that you’re in charge.”

“We’re on a _mission_ , Garrus,” Miranda says. “A very serious mission. There’s no room for dissension.” Her face tightened. “It appears you need a further demonstration of what I’m capable of.”

The biotic cushion around him changes from neutral to electric. The bonds on his limbs have loosened, giving him room to react, room for his limbs to twitch in response to the strong sensations that Miranda’s cushion is invoking. Tingling all up and down his body, seeming to be more intense on the areas that are most sensitive to turians. Mandibles, spurs … groin.

When the sensation fades, Garrus is left gasping and weak, and shamefully exhilarated. The intensity of what Miranda had just done…

Garrus finally catches sight of Miranda’s face, and he sees that she has been affected as well. Her cheeks are flushed, and she is also panting. Their gazes meet. 

Miranda bites her lip and clenches her hand into a fist, and the electricity starts again.

It’s more concentrated, this time - more focused in one place, instead of all across his body. He feels the tingling energy rippling across the individual tendrils of his fringe. His breathing turns shallow and his eyes close so that he can revel in the sensation. It’s wrong, because she started this in an attempt to demonstrate that _she_ could take charge of _him_ , and what he is doing is like surrendering, giving her a victory.

What keeps it from stinging too much is the memory of Miranda’s flushed face and the way she bit her lip before she started this again. 

“See how easy it is?” Miranda says. “How easy it is for me to immobilize you and start to control your feelings?”

Her words break the spell, and Garrus opens his eyes. The annoyance that tinges his voice is not solely from the arrogance that seems as much a part of her as her biotics.

“That wasn’t the point you were trying to make,” Garrus responds, and then considers his next words carefully. “How can I respect your authority if you have to resort to force and dirty tricks to get me to stop arguing?”

“Dirty tricks?”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t know that fringes are an erogenous zone for turians,” he says, and because he is watching her face so closely, he sees the flush return to her cheeks. 

“ _How_ erogenous?” Miranda asks.

Garrus gives her a smirk that he knows she’ll take as a dare. Spirits help him, but that’s what he _wanted_ , what he is trying to prod her into doing. 

“Well, then,” Miranda says. Her fist clenches and the biotic energy becomes even more focused than before, the lightest of touches playing across the end of his fringe. He shudders at the exquisite pleasure of it. A part of him wants to be ashamed at how quickly he has gone from wanting to best her, to … _enjoying_ it. Garrus can’t help but let out a sigh.

“How easily I break down your defenses,” Miranda muses aloud, and this time Garrus has to remember to be indignant. He focuses his gaze on her again and twitches his mandibles in a gesture of amusement. He isn’t sure she’ll read that, so he follows it up with another broad smirk.

Miranda’s fist clenches. “I wonder what else is an erogenous zone for turians,” she says, and he can see the effort she puts into keeping her voice calm. “I’m betting … there.”

The energy moves downwards and seems to fasten on the ends of his mandibles, quick pulses instead of gentle caresses. The gasp escapes his lips before he can think to stop it, and in its wake comes a rumbling that would give him away to another turian, but he’s pretty sure that Miranda can’t hear it. 

“Ah. I was right.” Garrus can tell that Miranda’s quite pleased with herself, which means it’s time for him to strike back.

Or at least, appear to be doing so.

“Congratulations, you leapt to the obvious conclusion,” Garrus says, making sure to inject a note of bored sarcasm into his voice. “Clearly, you’ve bested me and I should just give up now.”

Now there’s fire in her eyes, and Garrus tries to fight the excitement that brings him. “Maybe you should,” she snarls. “Because otherwise… I’m just getting _started_ , Garrus Vakarian. You’ve clearly never been with a biotic before, or you’d know that massaging your mandible is the _least_ of what’s possible.”

“You talk a lot,” Garrus replies. “I’m not seeing any earth-shattering —“

The biotic field around him tightens, pulling his head back, stretching his limbs out to their fullest. Garrus feels a momentary strain, but that’s it. He can’t see Miranda’s face any more, but her reaction tells him that his goading has had the desired effect. 

Small lines of energy spread out from the larger field and start undoing the buckles and straps on his clothing, lingering when they get to his bare skin. The sensation that he’d felt on his fringes and mandibles is now _everywhere_ , and there is no holding back, no pretending to be unaffected now.

Garrus has never felt anything even remotely like this in his life. Skin on skin contact is lovely, but most intense when it is focused - when his partner is giving all her attention to one area, keeping the touch light so as not to desensitize him. To keep him shuddering in delight longer.

Miranda has managed to extend that to his entire body, and the _way_ she is doing it - through biotics - is keeping him from being desensitized. It is not just simple contact that makes him shudder, it is the spark, the electricity behind it. A heated pulse that gets his blood pumping.

To one rather obvious area in particular, in point of fact.

The biotic cushion parts under Miranda’s hand, the electric pulse fading to a background hum as she runs her hand up his thigh and closes it around his erection. Garrus sighs as she runs her fingers up and down its length - exploring, measuring the differences. At least, that’s what he’d be doing in a similar situation. He suddenly finds himself _quite_ curious about human breasts.

Her hand moves away, and it takes an effort not to whimper a protest. A second later, he feels her fingertips roaming across his legs, and then landing on his spurs. Garrus sighs again. 

“Add that to the list,” Miranda says. “Spurs, mandible, fringe … am I missing anything, Garrus?”

“Why would I tell you if you were?” Garrus replies.

“As odd as it seems, I think you’re actually enjoying this.” Miranda closes her hands around his spurs and runs her thumbs up and down their sides, making Garrus shudder with delight. “Being trapped, helpless, completely at my mercy…”

The rumble that escapes his chest surprises him - and Miranda. She removes her hands, and the biotic cushion starts to lessen. Garrus opens his eyes and looks at her. “What are you doing?” he demands without thinking about it.

“You - you sounded angry…” Miranda replies, wide-eyed and confused.

“Spirits, _no_ ,” Garrus says. “That wasn’t anger. That was …”

“You do want this.” It’s half statement, half question.

Garrus takes a moment to think about his reply. “It’s … I never tried anything like this before. With anyone. It’s something I never knew that I wanted, but now that it’s happening … Yes, Miranda. I do want it.”

Confidence returns to her face, and her smile is broad and wicked, making Garrus’ stomach do a somersault. He feels his heart start beating faster in anticipation. “That wasn’t very convincing,” she says, her voice almost chiding him. “I’m not sure I should be spending my time and energy on this, if all I’m getting is a half-assed response.”

It’s Garrus’ turn to feel insulted, even though he knows that’s what she wants. “I want to feel your power,” he says, the words coming from some place inside him that he didn’t know existed. “I want to feel it all across my body, holding me, lifting me. I want to feel it on those sensitive areas that you identified.”

“Hmm. Like this?” The biotic cushion tightens around him again, suspending him in place. A heartbeat later, he feels pulses begin on the edges of his fringe, his mandible, his spurs. Garrus gasps, tries to arch his back, but the cushion is too tight, and it turns into a whimper.

“Like that,” Miranda says, sounding quite satisfied with herself. “I wonder how long you can last against this sort of attention, Garrus. How long before you start wanting - _needing_ more than just this.” 

Garrus feels himself rotating mid-air, going from a somewhat tilted position to a lying down one, as though on a large bed with his limbs stretched to its edges. Miranda walks over next to his head, the biotic cushion once again parting for her as she runs a finger down his mandible. Garrus gives as much of a shudder as the cushion will let him, and indulges in a low moan. Her fingers continue to roam across his neck and face, exploring, finding the spots that make him groan and twitch. 

She walks behind him and runs her hand across his fringe, lingering at the tips. Garrus whimpers and almost involuntarily jerks his hips upwards. The shame in how easily she can affect him has vanished under the unalloyed pleasure that she is giving him - her hesitation, her willingness to back off showing him that there is more to Miss Perfect than he had thought. A true cold-hearted bitch would have just kept going without any concern for his feelings. 

The thought allows him to completely relax, both physically and mentally. Garrus lets out a sigh, and he sees Miranda smile. “I see that I’m on the right track,” she says. Her hand migrates to his shoulder, then trails down his chest. She walks in a circle around him, both hands touching him, leaving a tingling sensation in her wake. He suspects that she is using her biotics to cheat. He doesn’t mind in the least.

When Miranda stops between his legs, her eyes meeting his, he feels his heart start to beat faster, his erection seeming to ache and throb in time with that beat. She meets his eyes, and smiles, and then runs a finger up his length.

Garrus arches his back again, and he swears that he can feel the air - the biotic cushion around him - heating up. His arms strain at the invisible bonds. He wants to grab her, to nuzzle her neck, to see if her breasts are as soft as he thinks they are. 

But Miranda’s biotics will not permit him to do any of those things, and from the very satisfied look on her face, she has guessed some of what is going on in his head. A few more moments of wasted struggle leave him feeling on edge, her hand movements threatening to send him over any second now. He moans loudly.

“I love watching you struggle,” Miranda says, almost too calmly for the situation they are both in. “You have to know that _you_ can’t affect the outcome. _I_ can.” 

Garrus moans again, and this time the sound edges into a plaintive keen. Her hand is tight; he can feel himself quivering in her grip. His hips wriggle, trying desperately to thrust into _something_. 

Two things happen in an instant. Miranda opens her hand, and the biotic cushion flares with a tingling energy. He feels a cry tearing at his throat and then it all hits him, a climax more intense than any he has ever felt before. His mind blanks out, overloaded from everything Miranda has done to him, and he simply rides the wave of electric pleasure. The bonds are as firm as ever, somehow seeming to heighten something that is already verging on indescribable.

When the wave has retreated and he can think again, he hears Miranda moaning. Garrus opens his eyes to see her leaning against a nearby wall, her jumpsuit unzipped, her hand moving frantically between her legs. Garrus feels a moment of disappointment, that she has had to make do with her own hand when she has done so much more to him. His cock jumps as though in protest when she hitches her breath in, head thudding against the wall as her moan becomes prolonged and heartfelt.

He waits until he’s sure she’s finished before he speaks. “Next time, _I_ get to do that.”

Miranda opens her eyes and looks at him, her face unreadable. She raised her hand and he feels himself drifting to the ground, the bonds loosened, his limbs under his control again. “Next time?”

Garrus snorts. “Miranda. You can’t give me the most mind-blowing sex of my life and expect me _not_ to want to come back for more.” He pauses, his stomach flipping as something occurs to him. “Unless… you don’t …”

“Idiot,” Miranda curses, which actually makes him feel better. “You _saw_ what I was doing. How much more proof of my enjoyment do you need?”

“Then we’re in agreement that there will be a next time,” Garrus says.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll have to figure out …” Miranda trails off, shaking her head. “No matter. There’s a shower in the back; go clean yourself up, Garrus. No need to advertise this to the rest of the crew.”

“I appreciate that,” Garrus replies dryly, gathering his clothes from the ground before he heads to the shower.


End file.
